


Tugging is Impolite

by latenightiridescence



Category: Toriko (Manga)
Genre: M/M, Size Difference, hair play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightiridescence/pseuds/latenightiridescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coco has always been too handsome for his own good, as far as Komatsu's concerned. Longer hair just makes it worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tugging is Impolite

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Hair play (pulling and the like). Goes AU after 157.

It wasn't unusual getting a call from Toriko in the evening. Since the start of their partnership, his phone rang more and more often – though it wasn't always Toriko on the other end, and sometimes not an actual call but a text or picture, the vast majority of which (all) were from Sunny of himself, and it managed to be adorably quirky enough Komatsu didn't have the heart to ask him to stop; that he saved most of them had nothing to do with it and really, he needed to stash those pictures elsewhere because if one of the Kings wanted to use his phone in an emergency this was the sort of thing too embarrassing to explain – and though this particular call was a bit strange, it hardly made the list of oddities Komatsu encountered whenever the Kings were involved.

_Komatsu was on his way home from work, walking slowly to enjoy the sights and sounds and smells of evening in the city, when his phone went off, vibrating madly in his pocket. He fished it out, smiling as Toriko's name flashed across the illuminated screen._

_"Hello?"_

_"Komatsu!" Toriko shouted. The chef held his phone at a safe distance in anticipation of this – Toriko was always far too loud during his initial greeting – and bit back a laugh as a couple sitting on a nearby bench startled out of each other's arms. Toriko was commanding even when not physically present._

_When Komatsu returned the phone to his ear, he could hear a faint male voice in the background, too quiet to be recognizable. Yet the chiding tone of the man's voice was clear._

_"Eh? What the hell are you talking about?" Toriko's own voice was muffled, as if he'd turned his head from the mouthpiece. "I'm not loud! Komatsu, am I loud?"_

_"A little," he said, grinning widely now as Toriko cursed and the unknown man laughed, having guessed Komatsu's affirmative response._

_Toriko huffed – a small explosion of staticky breath – but was more subdued when he continued. "Are you done with work?"_

_"I'm on my way home now."_

_"Then come over. There's a…surprise waiting for you here." The man spoke, Toriko shushing him quickly._

_"Toriko-san, who-?" That voice sounded so familiar, prickling at the back of his mind like a thing well-loved but forgotten over time. There was just something about that tone…_

_"Forget it for now. Will you come?"_

_"Of course." Komatsu would never pass up a chance to see his partner. "Let me chance first and I'll head right over."_

_"If you're going home anyway, pack up - we're going after the next ingredient on the list. But hurry, hurry!" Toriko's volume rose as his enthusiasm spilled over, and Komatsu's acknowledgment and goodbye were drowned out by yelling as the man once again told Toriko off._

_Komatsu pressed end as the dial tone informed him Toriko had hung up. He shook his head in amusement; whoever this mystery man may be, he handled Toriko perfectly._

His timing was spot on, walking up the path to Toriko's sweets house just as the final dregs of sunlight vanished. Terry, curled up on the dirt track, scented the air and barked in hello, allowing Komatsu to pat her gently as he detoured onto the grass. Having an enormous creature around that didn't intend to eat him was such a novelty. A very pleasant novelty.

The door was cracked open, so Komatsu pushed it wider and stuck his head inside, calling, "Toriko-san?"

"In here, Komatsu!"

Komatsu shrugged off his backpack and gourmet cases, setting them on a table he passed on his way deeper into the house – if you could call it that; the place was less of a 'house' than a candy mansion Toriko occasionally slept in – from which he could hear two voices: one distinctly Toriko, the other cool and calm and extraordinarily nostalgic…

Heart in his throat, Komatsu stumbled into the living room, tripping over his own feet in his haste to see if his ears were deceiving him. He registered Toriko immediately – always the easiest to pick out in a crowd – but quickly slid his gaze to the second occupant, dressed in the usual black and green. His cup of tea was placed beside a delicate glass case at Komatsu's audible shock.

"Coco-san!" Komatsu gasped, floored by pure delight at the sight of him sitting legs crossed on Toriko's couch, smile easing wider at Komatsu's honest enthusiasm.

Coco rose, striding across the room to meet Komatsu halfway with arms spread in greeting. Komatsu stepped into the proffered hug without hesitation. He hadn't seen the man in months, and even busy as Zebra and Sunny (and Toriko, of course) kept him, missing Coco was inevitable, especially as his longing for the five of them to travel together grew. This was an unexpected treat, and Komatsu glimpsed his partner's grin before pressing his face to Coco's stomach.

Hands cradled his head and the width of his back. Komatsu's fingers clenched on the edge of Coco's jacket, caught up in the feel of him. It really had been too long, and Coco seemed to agree; the curve of his lips was gentle, hair falling into his eyes as he looked down and murmured, "Hello again, Komatsu-kun."

"Coco-san!" Komatsu had already said that. He'd meant there to be more, but his attention was suddenly on the bishokuya's hair as Coco tucked the loose strands behind his ear. Was it a different style than when they met on that cruise ship? Hard to tell without Coco's customary turban, but it certainly looked that way… Surprised by the direction his thoughts were taking, Komatsu stepped back and – mentally – shook himself. He needed to focus. "It's so good to see you. But why are you here?"

"We were taking care of some business together," Toriko said, coming over to stand next to them. Komatsu hugged him too, in thanks and greeting both. A rougher hand than Coco's mussed through his hair.

"Business?"

"Let's sit," Coco said, guiding Komatsu to the couch with the careful grip he'd maintained on his shoulder. "We'll tell you everything, but it will take a little explaining."

So Komatsu ended up perched on the oversized piece of furniture, comfortably hemmed in by the two bishokuya as they told him about the President's hidden Full Course. He could only stare in awe at the tiny bean, or seed, or – Komatsu wasn't sure at all, but he knew, instinctually, they would find out if he picked it up, held it. Yet that same instinct felt almost reluctant; if he took this particular ingredient to the kitchen, its highest potential would not be reached.

"I'm sorry," Komatsu muttered, difficult to get the words out with Toriko and Coco watching him so expectantly. "But I think this is meant for someone else. It might not make any sense –"

The two men exchanged a glance over Komatsu's head. "We understand, Komatsu-kun, no need to apologize. Such a reaction occurred to us." Toriko draped an arm along the back of the couch in silent, physical agreement. Coco twitched his fingers closer to Komatsu's but failed to complete what was obviously meant to be a simple reassuring touch; anything beyond the hugs Coco had come to expect or a casual hand on his shoulder still left Coco uncertain (at first, but he could fix that) so it was up to Komatsu to encourage him, which was easy enough – as soon as their fingers brushed, Coco's hand was covering his, squeezing lightly.

He didn't make it a point to touch Coco, but Komatsu wouldn't soon forget how…lonely Coco felt, how much of that loneliness bled into his voice as the poisonous bishokuya smiled and insulted himself. Self-exile or no, Komatsu believed it was impossible to live without forging connections; and while Coco had the other Kings, he only played well with Toriko for any period of time – Sunny too aloof and Zebra too Zebra – and so Komatsu wanted to make it clear he was available for anything Coco needed.

Anything was a dangerous thought to be having, sitting between two of the most perceptive men on the planet. But it wasn't Komatsu's fault that his particular meaning of anything slowly amended itself to include activities Coco wouldn't consider, even for a moment, indulging in with someone like Komatsu; naked activities, snuggling and kissing and, yes, all the touching Coco could possibly want. God, he needed to think about something else, anything besides the way Coco's thumb was rubbing across his knuckles in tender sweeps, or the hair he once more pushed out of his face and how Komatsu sort of desperately wanted to run his fingers through it, maybe find out if the tiny curls at the nape of Coco's neck felt as soft as they looked.

"Toriko asked me to accompany you on your next trip," Coco was saying, which was good, because Komatsu needed the distraction, except he doubted watching Coco's mouth as if it held the secrets to the universe was any better. His cheeks were starting to flush. "I hope you don't mind."

"No. Definitely not," Komatsu added, since he'd like to make a concerted effort not to sound completely overcome. He wasn't sure how well he pulled it off; Coco smiled, so brightly it lit up his eyes, and clasped Komatsu's hand more tightly in both of his own.

Travelling with Coco was appealing. Their easy companionship – a singular occurrence, though no better or worse than their trips with Zebra and Sunny, just different – made for quite the enjoyable time. The problem would be keeping his newfound interest in Coco's hair to himself.

But Coco finding out Komatsu wanted to feel up his hair (and the rest of him, naturally) wasn't going to ruin his chance to be at the man's side. He was greatly looking forward to this. So Komatsu cleared his throat and asked, "What are we going after?"

"Meteor Garlic," Toriko said, perking up at their new topic, eager to be off again.

Komatsu beamed. Toriko's enthusiasm was always catching. "And where are we going?"

-

Of course, of _course_ Meteor Garlic would only grow near the peak of one of the Human World's most active volcanoes.

Only it wasn't just one, but a whole web of small, underground hot spots that coughed scalding spouts of steam and lava without warning, and Komatsu spent the majority of the trip snatched out of harm's way by the two bishokuya. Toriko eventually tired of Komatsu wandering unwittingly into danger zones – not that he could help it; the hardy plants and animals thriving there were intriguing, and it wasn't as though he stumbled across the spouts on purpose – and tucked Komatsu under his arm for safekeeping, holding him there despite all protests at the awkward position.

Coco kindly distracted him, walking backward to face him as they chatted and still managing to avoid getting burned. He pulled it off so smoothly, without batting an eyelash or losing the thread of conversation – all while the warm air tousled his hair to perfection – Komatsu found himself gushing about Coco's ever increasing coolness like a swooning teenage girl. Which was embarrassing, but at least he kept his flailing confined inside his head (for a change) though ended up giving himself away with his inability to stop gazing at the man. Coco smirked, just a tiny quirk of lips, and it was so unfairly attractive Komatsu sighed in relief when they reached the base of the volcano and Coco was forced to turn around, earning a strange look from Toriko that he ignored.

Retrieving the Meteor Garlic itself was little trouble despite the ashfall thickening as they ascended. They were forced to press cloths to their faces in order to breathe without inhaling mouthfuls of the stuff. Toriko's nose was useless in this situation, so it was up to Coco to lead them straight to the spot where the Garlic grew, able to faintly make out the plant's powerful electromagnetic waves despite the gray flurry.

But they were treated to an awesome sight when they did manage to find it; bright red leaves shooting from a pool of congealing lava, rotating so slowly it was nearly stagnant, and bulbs so large that, when Toriko attempted to pull one out, he had to strain a little, grunting in surprise at the resistance. The Garlic finally came free, glowing dully with some inner fire, and Toriko immediately began shaking off the molten rock clinging stubbornly to the outside. Coco grabbed a flat rock and joined him.

Komatsu stood back to watch, knowing he'd just get in the way if he tried to help (because lava), which was why he noticed the shadow first, a hulking figure approaching through the haze, and as it closed in Komatsu caught a glimpse of scales and wings and several rows of very sharp teeth.

"Um," he said, causing Coco to look up from his scraping, "is that-"

"Oh my."

"-a dragon?"

The roar and accompanying jet of fire made for a nice conformation.

-

"We were lucky," Coco said, after, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, only to smear black across his face.

Komatsu stared. The poisonous bishokuya had obviously lost his mind (which was why he was staring; certainly not because a sweaty, filthy Coco was a sexy Coco, not at all). "Lucky how?"

"Those dragons usually overwhelm their prey with sheer numbers, tearing off limbs to incapacitate it while devouring the still-living creature's intestines," Coco answered cheerfully.

Four more had come swarming out of hidden caves, which…Komatsu wondered what sort of 'numbers' Coco was talking about, if five enormous fire-breathing lizards weren't considered a swarm. "Oh, well then," he said, squinting off into the distance as Toriko laughed at Coco's morbidity. "Maybe we should leave before more show up?"

Coco dipped his head in agreement. "Prudent."

So he wasn't completely crazy. Good to know.

-

"Where are we going?" They'd veered away from the tourist trap of a town set a safe distance from the volcanic fields – Komatsu personally thought it wasn't far enough, but some people would do anything for money (he refuses to think of Ootake, because that's still sore, like a scabbed over wound just waiting to start bleeding all over again), including living near a ticking time bomb – and were heading into a greener part of the forest.

"I can smell fresh water," Toriko said.

A stream. Toriko and Coco were filthy, torn clothes exposing most of their bodies to the ash. Komatsu was clean except for his hair, and since that tiny bit of clinging ash alone made him want to run for the closest shower, he couldn't even begin to understand how the bishokuya felt.

Toriko's nose never steered them wrong, and soon Komatsu heard, not the quiet burbling of a stream, but the dull roar of a small waterfall. It made for beautiful scenery, a fine mist of water reflecting rainbow in the sun as it crashed over rocks and frothed wildly in the pool below.

His admiring was cut short by Toriko racing past in all his glory, leaving his clothes discarded in a messy pile. He splashed into the deeper waters, but not before Komatsu caught an eyeful; he choked on his next lungful of air, coughs dissolving into laughter at his own shock, because Toriko was always shameless and he really shouldn't be surprised this far into their partnership.

Coco was smiling at him, the remains of his shirt hanging from his fingers, and Komatsu's laughter died in his throat. Toriko he'd seen naked and been naked with several times (not that Toriko was any less impressive now, probably more so), but Coco, god, Coco was also getting naked and that was brand new and sort of scary and amazing and he hoped Coco didn't mind his staring because Komatsu would not be able to stop himself.

Komatsu did forcefully look away as Coco finished stripping and joined Toriko in the water – he had limits, after all – but watched (shamelessly, taking a leaf from Toriko's book) him cup the clear liquid in his palms and slosh it across his chest to rinse away the worst of the grime. Komatsu tracked the descent of a single droplet almost helplessly as the water made its way across the sculpted plane of Coco's stomach and past the deep cut of his hips, only to disappear into the dark trail of tight curls that led…elsewhere.

Yanking his eyes from dangerous territory and relocating them upwards, he found Coco observing him in return with a strange half-smile, half-smirk on his lips that did terrible things to Komatsu's insides. Flushing hotly, he turned his attention to Toriko instead. Coco was just too much right now.

Toriko noticed he was just standing awkwardly on the beach, and shouted, "Komatsu, hurry up and get in!"

"R-right." Komatsu set aside his gourmet cases full of Garlic to pick at his clothes with a resigned sigh and growing sense of impending doom.

"I'll wash your hair for you," Coco said.

He was going to die.

-

He didn't die.

In the end, being around so much of Coco's bare skin was far easier to handle with his back to it. But he underestimated how good it would feel, having Coco touch him with considerably more intimacy than friendly hugs and even holding hands entailed. Coco's long, slender fingers massaging through his hair, carefully working away all traces of ash…he could only hope to excuse his shivering as the cool air on his wet skin. The thumbs rubbing firm circles across the nape of his neck just weren't fair.

He made a noise once, completely involuntary, and Coco must've been hiding a sadistic streak because he pressed just a bit harder and Komatsu had to bite back a moan.

And Komatsu was forced to forgive him not long after; Coco's fingers slid from his hair, apparently satisfied with his cleanliness, to settle on his shoulders. Komatsu glanced up at him, the top of his head brushing Coco's stomach. Coco was simply looking at him, damp tendrils of hair clinging to his cheeks and eyes half-lidded – when Komatsu continued to look back, his lips curved slowly upwards.

Suffering from another hot surge of anything, Komatsu mumbled something about rinsing his clothes and broke for the relative safety of the shore.

He didn't die, but it was a close thing.

-

When they went their separate ways, Coco held him a little too tightly for a little too long, and Komatsu hugged him just as hard and thought, sadly, that next time he wouldn't wait for Coco to come to him.

-

A month later, Komatsu took two days off work, called Coco to make sure it was okay for him to visit – "I'll meet you in town," Coco told him without prompting, and Komatsu wondered, again, at the accuracy of his fortunes, "and, Komatsu-kun, you aren't intruding. Please don't think you need to wait in order to come see me." – and boarded the train to Gourmet Fortune alone. He was grateful this trip lacked the intimidating bishokuya making their way to the puffer whale, since there was no Toriko to intimidate them in return.

The ride was uneventful, peaceful with only a cookbook for company, and Komatsu hopped off at the station in high spirits. Gourmet Fortune seemed a different place now the residents weren't cowering in their homes on his arrival. He glanced around, smiling widely, and took a deep breath of fresh air before setting off toward the building in which Coco told fortunes, where they'd promised to meet.

It didn't take long to find; even closed, as the sign hanging out from claimed it to be, there were plenty of people milling around outside – mostly women, Komatsu noted wryly – hoping for a glimpse, or that the Heavenly King would open for business.

Not wanting to draw undue attention, Komatsu slipped inside without announcing himself. The room was dim, lit only by a single rack of candles. Coco sat beside them, nose in a book on horology that he snapped closed as Komatsu came further in. The chef wondered why he bothered with the candles at all – Coco could see perfectly well even in pitch black.

"It's nice to feel normal every once in a while," Coco said, accurately interpreting Komatsu's curious expression. His voice was soft and low in the dark, warm space. "Hello again, Komatsu-kun."

"Coco-san." Funny, how his own voice dropped to a murmur. It was just that sort of mysterious atmosphere. He stepped forward for their customary hug, stopping when Coco help up his hand.

"Hold that thought. My house is far more inviting than this dusty old place."

Coco rose and blew out the candles before joining Komatsu at the entrance, holding the door for him – Gentlemen of the Heavenly Kings indeed – and following him out into the sunlight. There was an immediate reaction from the crowd at Coco's appearance, especially the women, who began closing in right away, their adoring eyes fixed on Coco almost hungrily. It was rather alarming. Komatsu inched closer to Coco, fingers brushing as Komatsu reached out to anchor himself to some part of the man, but Coco knelt before he had the chance.

"Perhaps we should beat a hasty retreat," he suggested, presenting his back to Komatsu. "I'll carry you, if that's all right."

"Of course," Komatsu said, moving automatically to wrap his arms around Coco's neck. This was familiar, even if he'd only been carried by Coco once. People might think it strange that he let himself be lugged around so casually, but for Komatsu there was no safer place than a Heavenly King's back.

Coco folded his hands beneath Komatsu's thighs and stood from his crouch, taking off at a speed ordinary humans couldn't easily match. Komatsu heard him huff as several of the women cried out for him to wait. Poor Coco; so popular, but so emotionally unequipped to handle it. But Komatsu wouldn't be much better off – not that he had hordes of women throwing themselves at him, thank goodness – so he sympathized, hugging Coco more tightly in support.

"I've tried to make it clear I'm not interested, but they aren't willing to listen." Even though Komatsu knew firsthand how magnetic Coco could be, he'd never force himself on the man. "And they all want to touch me, which is still-"

Komatsu loosened his grip on Coco's cloak right away, leaning back when he noticed he nearly had his face pressed to Coco's neck.

"Oh, Komatsu-kun. Not you. Please don't ever think your touch is unwelcome." Coco shifted position, supporting Komatsu's legs on his forearm to free his other hand, squeezing Komatsu's own. "I…I haven't thanked you-"

He'd never heard Coco struggle for words. Komatsu stopped holding back and really did bury his face against Coco's neck – not for long, because he smelled amazing, hair tickling Komatsu's cheek as if encouraging him to nuzzle closer – to let him knew the feeling was mutual. Coco slowed once they were a fair distance from Gourmet Fortune. Kiss was waiting to take them the rest of the way.

Rather than set Komatsu down, Coco simply shifted the chef around so he could set him on Kiss' back, leaping nimbly to kneel behind him, knees spread to make room for Komatsu to sit tucked up against his belly. Arms crept around Komatsu's waist. Komatsu held very still, fingers coming to rest hesitantly atop Coco's; this was quite possibly the longest Coco had ever touched him, and he was wary of doing anything that might make him stop.

Really, though, his fear was unfounded. Maybe he'd finally broken through the last of Coco's reticence - as they flew onward the bishokuya only pulled him closer, one hand dropping to Komatsu's thigh and mouth hovering just above his forehead when Komatsu looked at him. Komatsu smiled, nosing Coco's chin affectionately. No point in hiding how much he loved this, not with Coco clinging to him as if he'd never let go. Seemed he'd be spending his whole visit cuddling. And that was more than okay with Komatsu.

When they landed, Komatsu was the first off Kiss, sliding down the crow's side and making a beeline for the house, Coco laughing as he followed in his wake. He caught up quickly, sweeping Komatsu into his arms again and kicking open the door. Komatsu shrugged off his pack and let it drop onto the table as Coco yank out a chair with his foot and rearranged Komatsu so the chef was straddling his lap.

"Now, about that hug…"

Komatsu huffed a quiet laugh. It seemed like a silly request when they'd done pretty much nothing else for twenty minutes, but he wrapped his arms around Coco's neck anyway, enjoying the warmth of Coco's body all along his front. His face was buried in that hair again; this time, he stroked his cheek against it curiously, luxuriating in the ability to do so freely.

"You've been so fascinated by this," Coco said, taking Komatsu's hand and pushing it into his hair. "Is it really that attractive?"

"Yes," Komatsu admitted. He was already carding it between his fingers, blindly measuring the length and mentally preparing a list of all the comparable sensations; not as soft as Sunny's – though who knew what extreme conditioning Sunny submitted his hair to – but more so than Toriko's. Zebra's too, even though he'd yet to touch it. Just seemed like a safe assumption to make. One side longer than the other, as usual. Dark and sleek, reminiscent of Kiss' feathers.

Komatsu was startled out of his exploration of Coco's hair when the bishokuya kissed his throat, a ghostly brush of lips and hot breath. He shivered, his own breath hitching, thighs and fingers clamping down in instinctual reaction. Coco gasped, a stuttery noise that careened through Komatsu in a pleasant haze of arousal, though he loosened his grip when he noticed he'd pulled Coco's hair taut. Suddenly he was being kissed for real, their mouths locked and Coco clamping his hands on Komatsu's hips in a deathgrip that rocked them together.

Coco arched, grinding in tight little circles. "Please tell me this is all right, Komatsu-kun." There was a desperate edge to his voice.

"Absolutely," Komatsu said, kissing him again, sloppy, distracted by the heady knowledge that Coco was already hard because of him. "Anything."

Coco carried him to bed.

-

Tugging is impolite. Komatsu knows this; it's nearly impossible to remember with Coco's mouth on his chest and thighs and- on him, on his cock, sucking deep and easy, effortlessly perfect. He can't help the way his hands clench and grip tight, anything to keep from embarrassing himself as the shock begins to fade and feeling sets in.

Inky strands curl around his fingers, cling like silky vines, like something alive; reminds him of Sunny, only this isn't Sunny, it's Coco, holding Komatsu's legs apart by the knees as his nose presses snug to his stomach, no need for hands – there's something to be said for their size difference, no inch of Komatsu Coco can't take.

So, buried in wet heat, Komatsu forgets propriety. Coco doesn't mind. As he flicks his tongue, slides his mouth down and swallows, Komatsu forgets harder and yanks. There is very little strength left in his shivering muscles, just enough to drag a surprised noise from Coco's throat. It surprises Komatsu as well, has his back arching and hips rolling into the hum of sound before he can stop. Size difference or no, choking Coco is the last thing he wants, but the hands on his knees are suddenly under his ass instead, lifting.

Komatsu digs his toes into Coco's shoulders and shouts in warning, closes his eyes and pulls at all that dark hair and comes loud and messy when Coco digs nail crescents into him, saying Komatsu-kun and let go.

Later he blinks away the spots dancing across his vision to see Coco still kneeling beside the bed, licking idly at lips swollen red from friction. His hair is in disarray, mused and so polar opposite of his usual impeccable appearance Komatsu guiltily reaches out to smooth it flat. Coco chuckles and kisses him, giving Komatsu a taste of himself.

What should be strange at the very least is made exciting like this. Komatsu chases the flavor until there's nothing remaining and pulls back – Coco flushed and smiling and beautiful – to tug at clothes. He needs them off, needs Coco sprawled on his sheets; time to return the favor.

Komatsu somehow gets Coco on the bed with him, kissing as he unwinds the bandages that prevent him from peeling away the skintight outfit. When he finally pulls away the last of them, loosening green from around Coco's waist, Komatsu slips his fingers underneath to explore Coco's firm stomach. He's surprised when the bishokuya grabs his hand and directs it between his legs, but Coco is hard and hot, only a thin layer of material separating them, and Komatsu is content to touch there instead.

The nature of Coco's clothes – always a terrible tease and distraction – is a blessing now. Komatsu can slide his palm along Coco's cock, can press his thumb below the head and the pressure transmits perfectly, Coco groaning softly and biting at Komatsu's mouth. He leans back just enough to watch the tip of his index finger slide along a slick lower lip, smiling when Komatsu pokes his tongue out to encourage it further inside. But there are better uses for his mouth. Komatsu lets the finger go and replaces his hand with his lips.

Coco's head lands on the mattress with a dull thump as Komatsu mouths at him, gets at what he can and sucks, making the fabric wet and clingier than ever; Coco shivers when he exhales over the dampness, and it's Komatsu's turn to smile. But for all that the tight material lets him touch all he likes, there's no taste. Komatsu wants that, badly, so he starts dragging it down Coco's hips. He's stopped by Coco pinning his hands.

"Wait," he says. "Like this is fine."

"E-eh? But don't you want me to…?" Komatsu flushes and ducks his head a little. For all he's just been doing exactly that, he can't quite bring himself to say don't you want me to suck your cock out loud.

Coco's expression is almost pained. "I do, Komatsu-kun, believe me. It's just safer this way."

It occurs to Komatsu that Coco must be worried about losing control of his poison (and not, as Komatsu had momentarily assumed, that he was unhappy with Komatsu's admittedly lacking experience), which was even more ridiculous than being unable to talk about sexual acts in the middle of, well, sex. So, planting an affectionate kiss on Coco's thigh, he says, "Trust me, and trust yourself."

There's a quiet minute where Coco does nothing but gaze at Komatsu with something akin to reverence, and then he sits up and hugs the little chef close. Komatsu laughs gently, but the sound dies in his throat when Coco releases him to remove his top, winking as he tosses it on the floor; that should be ridiculous too, but somehow manages to be genuinely sexy instead simply because it's Coco, which is so unfair it hurts. But there's no time to think about their huge difference in attractiveness when Coco is finally getting naked.

Coco lifts his hips and Komatsu helps him strip off the rest of his clothes. He takes the long way down, biting at a nipple, seeking out ridges of lean muscle and the vulnerable dip of Coco's bellybutton, drinking in the feel of bare skin with his fingertips and tongue. He's drowning in it, senses flooded with Coco, and by the time he reaches his goal Komatsu just takes as much of Coco's cock into his mouth as he can and closes his eyes against the intimate, bitter-salty taste. Saliva slicks his chin and he wets his fingers, getting them around what he can't reach, twisting his wrist like he would on himself. When he sucks hard, cheeks hollowing, Coco actually shouts, hands flying up to grab at his hair, maybe afraid of hurting Komatsu with his strength. He decides not to push too far, just happy to have Coco comfortable enough to let Komatsu do this for him.

He draws back to drop a messy, open mouthed kiss on the tip, tongue digging into the slit; relaxing his throat to accept Coco's unrestrained thrust is difficult but not impossible. Komatsu is relearning this quickly, and with his hand keeping Coco from sinking deep enough to choke him it's becoming easier every second. The sounds Coco is making are driving him a little crazy, low and half-strangled, sending his blood rushing south. He'll be hard again soon. Skimming his eyes up to look at Coco's face certainly helps, breathtaking with his eyes dark and half-lidded, panting for breath with lips parted. What really hits him is how Coco is pulling at his hair, fingers white knuckled. So much force should hurt, but Coco's expression is all pleasure and…yes, it makes sense now, the way Coco reacted when Komatsu yanked his hair before, and the thought of Coco getting off on that as much as from Komatsu's mouth on him makes Komatsu need to touch himself.

He does so, letting go of Coco reluctantly to take a decent breath. Coco is watching Komatsu stroke both their cocks, gaze sharpening when he pulls at his hair and Komatsu whimpers and jerks into his fist.

"Do you like that, Coco-san? With your hair?"

Komatsu is hauled up by his shoulders, face to face with Coco as the bishokuya whispers hoarsely, "You do it, Komatsu-kun, you-"

Now he's the one on his back, Coco elbowing his legs apart to fit their hips together. Komatsu's hands find themselves diving into Coco's hair without further prompting, and he tugs at it, lightly at first but with steadily increasing force as Coco falls apart, rutting wildly into the crook of his thigh. He's hypersensitive, and the heavy pressure of Coco's erection sliding beside his is too much, leaving him caught between desperation for more and the need to shy away. A particularly fierce yank puts a stop to Coco's grinding thrusts, but only because the man is coming, slick pulses streaking Komatsu's stomach.

Komatsu is so close he wants to cry, lets Coco know with the trembling arch of his spine. Coco smiles lazy and satisfied, kisses him once, and descends on Komatsu's cock not only with his mouth but his hair as well, coiling the longest strands around him and latching onto the base with his lips and small cat-like flicks of his tongue. The unbearable ticklishness of his hair, the smooth heat of Coco's mouth – dual sensation sends him hurtling over the edge, screaming.

-

"Sorry," Komatsu said for what seemed like the millionth time, though he couldn't say it enough in this particular situation. There was semen smeared across the right side of Coco's face and, more importantly, in his hair. "…I think you need a shower, Coco-san."

"We both do," Coco said, drawing his index finger through the come drying on Komatsu's stomach.

Komatsu nodded. They were quite a sight, but neither of them moved to get cleaned up. Sweaty and sticky they may be, but there was no one else here, and Coco's bed was just too comfortable. The bishokuya wiped the worst from his face with a corner of the sheet and left it at that. Komatsu thought he might fall asleep like this, cuddled against Coco's side and pleasantly worn out. Only the knowledge of how gross he'd feel later kept him from doing so.

"You knew," he accused without heat, mostly in the hopes that conversation would prevent him from drifting off.

"Mmm, yes, well." Komatsu could feel Coco smile against the top of his head. "It's difficult to hide much from me, Komatsu-kun, and you aren't the subtlest man, I'm afraid." Komatsu laughed, because that was too true. "There was simply no chance for me to approach you, and I wasn't sure how to go about it at any rate."

"I'd say you were pretty successful."

Coco laughed and tilted Komatsu's chin up for a kiss. "You were quite good." He eased open Komatsu's lips with his thumb, and Komatsu licked it, blushing as he realized what Coco meant, though it was a nice little ego boost to know Coco enjoyed himself.

"I've done it a few times before," he muttered.

"It doesn't surprise me that Toriko-"

Komatsu's head shot up so quickly he nearly smacked Coco in the nose. "N-n-not Toriko-san! A chef from my training days!" He winced as he said it, but unwilling as Komatsu was to talk about Ootake, letting Coco think he was having an affair with his partner was almost as bad. Okay, not quite (or really at all, as if he couldn't see why Coco would assume such a thing, and he wasn't exactly…opposed to the idea) but perhaps he needed to say it. Ootake was not the man he used to be, but he'd once been Komatsu's closest friend, and he wouldn't let their last meeting taint the precious memories they'd made.

"Youthful experimentation, hm?" Coco sat up and stretched, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. "I hate to admit it, but this is the first time I've truly beaten Toriko at anything in half a decade."

"Coco-san!" Komatsu wailed, considered throwing a pillow but didn't bother because Coco would just catch it anyway. His glare was also painfully ineffective; Coco smiled and gestured for Komatsu to join him as he disappeared into the bathroom.

Komatsu sighed, padding after him. And Coco was supposed to be the least competitive…


End file.
